The Price All Men Must Pay
by BlackRoseDahlia
Summary: All men pay the price of death. For Les Amis, it is their turn to realize no one is truly invincible. Joly says goodbye to a friend and brother sooner than he wished to. Contains elements from the Brick and musical.  Extension of Jehan's death


"Where is Jean Prouvaire?"

The roll was called. "Ay" was the answer. All young and old voices but one answered with "Ay". The Malade Imaginaire glanced around the smokey barricade. The wounded and dying lay about on mattresses with either too much or too little medical attention paid. But the young poet made no sound that assured the students of his prescence

"Search the dead, search the wounded," ordered Enjolras strongly. But within a short time span, the boy was not found.

An insurgent jogged over to the leader.

Said Combeferre: "They have our friend."

The hearts of the students and citizens blackened and a sorrow fell over the barricade. Joly pushed his way to Enjolras. "They have him?" "Indeed," replied the leader. "We must get him back," the doctor insisted. His breathing quickened.

Joly and Jean Prouvaire had become close friends, nearly brothers. Their closeness in age and views forged a strong bond between the two students. The doctor, being slightly older, grew protective of his friend. With the poet's prescence gone the young doctor was on edge.

"We have their officer," confirmed Combeferre. "So a trade shall be arranged?" "Ay, Enjolras."

Tension spread through the men. "What if he has been killed already," asked some men, pulling a string in the heart of the hypochondriac. The philosopher Combeferre's eyes blackened. Enjolras set his jaw, causing him to look remarkably like an old statue of Rome. And, like a statue, Enjolras said nothing and everything.

The spy, Javert, was retrieved. Anger flashed through the eyes of the men as the inspector passed them. Combeferre fished out his handkerchief.

Joly ventured to the top of the barricade. His eyes gazed over the wall to the darkening street. A sharp piercing cry echoed from the opposite side. Was it Jehan?

His fingers gripped onto the musket. He would kill them; murder them all if they harmed the poet. Strong hands clasped onto his shoulder, frightening the doctor from his thoughts.

Said Enjolras: "Do not build your resentment and rage. The young poet shall be returned to us in mere minutes."

Another sharp cry sounded catching the men's attention. It was much closer than the last cry. A second, gruffer, voice sounded to them.

"You at the barricades listen to this! We have your man. If you do not surrender, then he shall die!"

"No, Jehan!" The doctor's blanace was nearly lost as he reached over to his dear friend. The young poet trembled slightly. His fine white shirt was bloodied and torn, as was his vest. His tight blonde curls were matted against his forehead with sweat. His sight was cut off with a torn fabric and wrists bound together in front by rough rope.

The doctor cried once more, "JEHAN!"

"Hold him back," called Enjolras in regards to Joly's behavior. The doctor was restrained by Bossuet and Courfeyrac, while Combeferre kept his eyes trained on Javert.

"And we have your man!" yelled the blonde leader, who motioned to the philosopher to bring forth the prisoner. Both sides grew tense. Both had prisoners and different conditions. It was a near stalemate.

"...Give up your foolish fight! You shall all die in vain!"

"Release the boy in your current custody!"

A musket was loaded and pointed at the young Prouvaire's head as an answer. "We shall punish him for his treachery."

"DON'T YOU BASTARDS DARE!"

The young poet's breath caught in his throat. He called, "Jolllly! Jolllly!" to his friend and brother. The twenty and three student called back, "Friend! Oh, mon ami!" He attempted to force himself down the safety of the barricade but was, alas, restrained again. "Let me loose! Turn me loose! Our man is to die!"

"We shan't lose another man! Get back, Joly!" "Save him! Save him!"

Enjolras turned his face to Combeferre.

"Raise your handker-"

"VIVE LA REPUBLIQUE! VIVE L'AVENIR!"

A sharp crack of gunfire stopped the young Jehan's poetic fire forever. The boy slumped to the ground and expired.

The doctor too collapsed. Sobs pounded through him. His Jean, his dear dear poet was dead. His eyes raised to Heaven where he could sense his friend's soul. "Jehan," said he mournfully. His living friend sympathetically put their hands on his shoulders. The leader turned away. A tear slowly made its way down his cheek.

He then turned to his prisoner. "Your friends have just shot you," he told the man.

The corpse was retrieved when the enemy was not alert. The medical student sat beside the body. He looked into Jehan Prouvaire's blank eyes. What could he see? Nothing. Did he feel pain when the shot drove through him? Oh, did the young poet forgive him for not saving him? Joly took his friend's hands in his own.

"We fight in his name."

The leader's hand clasped onto Joly's shoulder. His eyes held sadness. One of the doctor's hands let loose the hand of the deceased student and then covered his leader's. "We fight in the name of Patria, and the beauty and asthetics of Jean Prouvaire's ideal France."

The doctor swallowed with difficulty before nodding in agreement. He took another look at his classmate, fellow revolutionary, friend, and brother. Joly's trembling fingers closed Jehan Prouvaire's eyes forever.

"Vive la republique. Vive mon frère."

**I do not own Les Miserables**

**Joly- Jamie Muscato**

**Jean Prouvaire- Alistair Brammer**

**Enjolras- Ramin Karimloo**

**Combeferre- Jonathan Williams**


End file.
